


In Good Company

by capnseriouslycanadian



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Chatting & Messaging, Dildos, M/M, Masturbation, Nude Photos, Wine & Dine, the onlyfans au that no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capnseriouslycanadian/pseuds/capnseriouslycanadian
Summary: Almost every day Jonny will send Patricksomething; a picture, a video, sometimes both. Patrick likes it, gets off on it, Jonny can tell; the appreciation that Patrick shows for Jonny’s content stands as encouragement, flattery, but a little bit of something else, too.(jonny joins onlyfans. patrick ends up being his biggest fan. no, seriously.)
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 15
Kudos: 216
Collections: 1988: Locked In





	In Good Company

**Author's Note:**

> three fic ideas later and i finally settled on an OnlyFans au, who saw that one coming? not me, that's for sure!
> 
> thank you thank you thank you to my beta, [solizabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solizabeth/works) for being my saviour during this entire experience. this fic would literally not exist without you and i am so grateful for all your help. <3
> 
> and a big thanks to the mods of the 1988 Quaranthon, too! i love this idea and i'm really glad i was able to contribute. 
> 
> title taken from good company by kye

It started out as a gig for extra cash. Working at the local organic food store wasn’t exactly his dream job, but Jonny still enjoys it every day. Making a little extra money on the side seemed like the perfect idea, especially because he could do it from the comfort of his own home and no one would ever have to know. 

When he first heard about OnlyFans through social media, it had sounded kind of ridiculous. As if anyone would want to pay monthly subscriptions and shit just to get behind a paywall and see that the content they paid for is some girl in a lacey bra. 

But, after doing some research on the DL (like,  _ very  _ DL, so DL that he did it in a private browser at home and restarted his computer afterwards), his interest had been piqued.

Jonny knows, perhaps he’s always known, that he’s good looking. It’s not like he doesn’t spend countless hours every week going for runs and working out, but hearing other people tell him how good he looks? Knowing that they appreciate the work he puts into his own body? Yeah, that really does something for him. It creates a spark inside of him, like a firework—only small—exploding. He loves that feeling; he  _ craves  _ that feeling.

Being an exhibitionist wasn't exactly hard in college. Jonny had been able to make out with guys and girls at parties, hooking up just out of sight and the anticipation that they could be caught only added to the sensual high. 

As he got older though, Jonny realized that a lot of people preferred monogamy, and not only that, but they preferred to practice monogamy from the comfort of their own home. That meant that his opportunities to let his exhibitionist streak run wild were slim to none. 

So, OnlyFans ended up having more pros than cons, and in the end, Jonny decided that if worse came to worst, he would just delete the account and pretend it never happened; he could go back to the occasional one night stand if needed.

****

Setting it all up took more time than he had originally anticipated. Choosing the subscription price, creating content to post throughout the week, ensuring he had extra content to put behind his paywalls; it all seemed like a lot of effort, but according to his research, the more effort he put in and the more content he provided, the higher the pay out would be. 

So basically, more bang for your buck. Or at least, more hypothetical bang for his subscribers’ bucks. 

He sets his opening subscription rate at $8.99. According to some of the blogs, $9.99 is the “average” starting rate, so he figures if he lowballs a little, he’ll gain more subscribers right off the bat and can increase it afterwards. 

Besides, if the looks he gets at the bar, and the gym, and the grocery store say anything, his body will sell itself. 

****

Things start off great. Jonny gains subscribers like crazy, because apparently, according to his roommate Brandon, “good looks sell, and your body is bangin’, bro.” 

He also finds that taking the type of “artsy, yet suggestive” photos that people like is actually quite simple, once he figures out his angles and lighting. He realizes that the best lighting is in his and Brandon’s living room and kitchen, because of the huge windows that face south and west. They let in bright sunlight during the day, and warmer rays during the evening as the sun sets in the sky; the white cabinets in the kitchen sometimes turn a soft yellow or orange if the sunset is particularly vibrant. 

He learns to be courteous about letting Brandon know when he’s “working”. There was one particular instance, where he was attempting to take some photos of himself cooking in the nude, with nothing but an apron on as he faced the stove and took the photos from behind, and Brandon got home from work early. The timer camera on Jonny’s phone ended up going off just in time to capture Brandon’s look of horror mixed with confusion when he had walked into the kitchen. 

They had a good laugh about it once Jonny explained what he was doing, coming to an agreement that there should be some sort of warning issued for whenever he needed to take photos, so that Brandon knew to either stay out of the apartment, or stay in his room. The system hasn’t failed since. 

Today, Jonny decided to go with something a bit easier, since the last few sets of pictures he’d taken had been a bit higher quality. He didn’t want to set a precedent that was too high, not just yet. 

He goes into the living room and sits on the couch, clothes left in a pile on his bedroom floor. The way the midday sun is shining through the living room window illuminates Jonny’s skin perfectly, turning it a golden brown. His skin is still damp from his shower, and there’s water droplets falling from his hair and running down his chest, a few of them settling in his belly button, some of the droplets running down further. 

Jonny brings his phone up above his head, using the zoom out feature on his iPhone camera to extend the field of view. He takes a few shots down his body, his cock lying half hard against his lower abdomen. 

Even just the thought of people looking at these photos of him, seeing him on display like this, sends a thrill through Jonny. He feels himself thickening up under the lense of the camera, his thoughts running wild as he imagines someone looking through these photos, bringing themselves off. 

A girl with her hand buried between her legs, fingers working over her clit as she uses her other hand to scroll through his photos. Or a guy, hand closed in a tight fist around their cock as they look at his body. 

Jonny mirrors the second image, closing his own fist around the base of his cock as he slowly starts to stroke himself. He uses his other hand to continue to take photos, changing the angle of the phone, using his grip to get the angles just right in the afternoon light. 

He takes another picture, this time with his left hand holding his cock upright, his thighs spread obscenely wide and a bead of precome pearling at the head. He puts his phone down onto the cushion beside him and lets his head drop back onto the top of the couch, getting lost in his thoughts as he continues to stroke himself. 

Jonny goes back to his thoughts about a guy getting off to his photos. He pictures it: a strong, muscular guy, sitting in his bed, or maybe at his desk chair, cock pulled out over the top of his sweats (or maybe his work slacks). The guy would lick his palm and then rub it over the head the way Jonny likes, little bursts of pleasure from that one focused pressure point. 

Jonny reaches his other hand down, rolling his balls in his palm before moving further back into the shadow between his legs. He shifts a bit further down the couch and brings one dry finger to his rim, pressing against the muscle. It makes him wish that there was someone else there, someone capable and skilled enough to jerk him off and finger him at the same time. 

Jonny’s coordinated, sure, but sometimes the pleasure gets to be too much and he can’t always multitask at the pace he needs to really get himself there. 

He sighs and lets his mind wander as he continues to stroke himself tighter now. He sees a chiseled jawline, strong shoulders and big hands, big enough to wrap around both of them as they grind together, abs slick with precome and sweat, the only sound their combined breathing as they thrust their hips into that big, firm grip, seeking a little bit more friction—

His orgasm catches him by surprise, and he looks down as he spills all over his stomach and hand. He looks up then, slightly dazed, and notices that the room is much darker than it had been when he started. It makes him realize he may have been sitting, naked, in the living room for longer than is courteously allowed by his and Brandon’s “bro code”. 

He gets up off the couch, grabbing a few tissues on his way back to his room, and sends a text to let Brandon know he’s done. 

****

Something Jonny learned right at the beginning, is that it’s not only explicit content that sells. His workout videos get a lot of hype—people commenting on how ripped he is, how big his biceps are, how strong his hands look. 

(And look, if the whole OnlyFans thing doesn’t work out, at least it’s been  _ great  _ for his ego, right?)

He’s filmed quite a few videos of himself lifting weights, bench pressing, doing pushups (he has this one video where he did hot yoga, and watching it back, he can totally see why people went  _ crazy  _ for it), and since they’ve all gotten great reviews so far, he decides to keep those in front of the paywall. Everything else becomes PPV content, sometimes shirtless pics, sometimes something a little more.

There’s this one account, it’s username is lilpeekaboo, which doesn’t give away much about the person’s identity. The user pays for every single thing Jonny posts. He thought at first it was just someone being excited about the content, but the person ends up paying for every damn thing that he hides behind the paywalls. He honestly starts to wonder if he has some sort of stalker.

He decides to test the waters with a private message, just for curiosity’s sake.

_ tazer19: Hey, uploaded a new photo just for you, check it out  _

He attaches the photo behind a $5.00 paywall and hits send. The response comes through almost immediately. 

_ lilpeekaboo: done _

The photo is unlocked once the payment goes through, so Jonny waits to see if the user will reply. The reply is short, but he doesn’t have to wait long.

_ lilpeekaboo: holy shit your dick is so pretty  _

Jonny blushes at the compliment. 

_ tazer19: If you keep messaging me, you can see more ;) _

Jonny cringes as he presses send. Winky faces are so  _ not _ his style, but they seem to get the message across, so he digresses.

_ lilpeekaboo: hey _

_ lilpeekaboo: hey tazer _

_ lilpeekaboo: your big dick is soooooo pretty _

_ lilpeekaboo: wish i could give it a kiss _

_ lilpeekaboo: that enough messages for ya? _

The laugh Jonny lets out comes from his belly, making his body shake. The messages catch him by surprise, a nice change of pace from the usual tone of his conversations on this site, that range from boring to sexy to sometimes (if he’s lucky) downright filthy. 

_ tazer19: Touché _

_ lilpeekaboo: i hope thats french for “yes ill send u more pics of my hot bod and pretty dick” _

_ tazer19: I mean, that’s not a direct translation, but… ;) _

Jonny attaches another photo below his last message, unable to keep the smile off his face. He doesn’t even know this person, doesn’t even know their  _ name _ , but he likes the light-heartedness of the conversation. It feels as though he’s talking to a buddy, someone he’s known for a while, instead of just a stranger on the internet. It also makes him less aware of the awkwardwardness of the situation, due to the fact that the person is literally  _ paying  _ to open every photo he sends within seconds. 

_ lilpeekaboo: fuck tazer how are u so hot??? _

Jonny pauses. Being addressed as “Tazer” isn’t exactly the worst thing in the world, but it sends him back to his college hockey days, which is something he would rather not think about while he’s trying to get someone off. 

_ tazer19: Jonny _

_ tazer19: My actual name is Jonny _

There’s a long pause before the next message comes through, like  _ lilpeekaboo _ was trying to decide whether or not to share their own name. When the reply finally does come through, Jonny feels a small smile spread across his face. 

_ lilpeekaboo: hi jonny _

_ lilpeekaboo: im patrick :)  _

****

  
  


Talking to Patrick becomes, well, Jonny’s new normal. 

Perhaps it’s weird to talk so casually with someone who’s, for all intents and purposes, a fan. But “fan” doesn’t even begin to encapsulate everything that Patrick has become. Patrick becomes a friend, too. A friend that Jonny can message when he’s had a shit day at work and needs to vent. He's a friend he can talk to about a new book or a TV series that's got him hooked or—anything. Shit, anything.

It goes both ways, because Jonny gets to know him, too. Even small things, brief exchanges like:

  
  


_ tazer19: So where are you from? _

_ lilpeekaboo: live in chicago because of work, grew up in buffalo _

_ tazer19: I live in Chicago too, but I was born and grew up in Canada. _

_ lilpeekaboo: oh nice! where in canada _

_ tazer19: Winnipeg? Not sure if you know where that is? _

_ lilpeekaboo: yeah i’ve been! for work lol it’s cold there _

  
  


It shouldn’t mean so much, but somehow it does.

And, conveniently, he’s also become a friend Jonny fucks on the regular. Virtually, of course. 

Almost every day Jonny will send Patrick  _ something _ ; a picture, a video, sometimes both. Patrick likes it, gets off on it, Jonny can tell; the appreciation that Patrick shows for Jonny’s content stands as encouragement, flattery, but a little bit of something else, too.

It’s starting to feel—weird. It sounds more cynical than Jonny intends, because it’s not  _ weird _ , it’s—well, sort of fucking great. 

It’s just—Jonny has this little nagging voice in the back of his mind, too; it’s constantly reminding him that Patrick is  _ paying _ for all of this. And that’s what makes Jonny feel weird, because Patrick shoudn’t have to pay for this—fuck, Jonny would do it for  _ free _ . 

But then another part of Jonny says that it’s maybe inappropriate, to be thinking about Patrick as a customer, a  _ fan _ (and holy fuck does that ever make it weird) like this. 

And yet, every time they talk, Jonny feels himself teetering closer and closer to the edge of wanting to ask Patrick to meet in person, so that Jonny can see him, all of him. The connection is good—great, even—but Jonny wants that physical aspect, too, if Patrick’s willing to go that far.

Maybe he’s making something out of nothing, but Patrick has this way of making Jonny feel important, even through a dumb phone screen. He imagines the effect will be amplified tenfold in person, and he really hopes Patrick lets him test that theory.

****

_ lilpeekaboo: u ever gonna show me what that ass can do, jonny? _

Jonny’s not normally a sucker for dirty talk, but for some reason the combination of Patrick’s words and the thrill of knowing that Patrick’s getting off on this, too, makes it even hotter for him.

_ tazer19: Anything for you, baby ;) _

He says it in a joking tone, and yet it couldn’t be more true. He’s so fucked. Or rather, he’s about to be so fucked. By himself, with a dildo.

_ lilpeekaboo: you’re talkin the talk, but will u walk the walk?? ;) _

Jonny reads the message as he gets off his bed, walking to his closet. The second shelf, right below where he keeps all of his hats, is where he keeps his equipment.

In Jonny's industry it's handy to be well equipped. That could be true of many industries, really, but here in this context, Jonny means: toys. Dildos. Vibrators. Shit, he even has handcuffs, reserved for those special videos. It's a niche, sure, but Jonny knows the video of him with his own hands bound behind his back, fucking himself down on a dildo he suctioned to the floor, was in his top ten ranked clips. A niche, maybe, but popular nonetheless. 

Point is, Jonny's got stuff for every occasion. Different shapes, sizes, colours—all the dealer needs to do is name his price. But Jonny's favourite? Shit, he loves one of his dildos the most. He thinks it's because it's the most realistic, the most cock-like; big, hard, and veiny, with a bulbous head that flares perfectly to catch his prostate on every stroke. When he really gets into a rhythm, gets that angle just right, maybe riding it or pumping it into himself, he can imagine himself getting truly and properly fucked. 

That's the one Jonny wants to use for Patrick.

He throws the toy and a bottle of lube on his bed, strips off his shorts and underwear, and sits back against the pillows. If Patrick wants a show, then he’s going to get a show. 

_ tazer19: It’s showtime _

****

It felt good, getting himself off, knowing that it was for Patrick. It’d been hot, almost too much in the best way possible; a stifling, heedy need to come, thick in the air around him as if it were a humid summer day. He’d fucked himself, hard and deep, as he pictured Patrick; big shoulders, broad chest, teasing eyes.

The longer he layed on his back, fucking himself, the louder his moans became; short, breathless things that were amplified as the knowledge that Patrick would hear them washed over him. 

Jonny could see it. Patrick watching Jonny get fucked. Patrick stroking himself to the rhythm Jonny had set. Patrick moaning as he thrust his hips up into his own fist. Patrick spilling into his hand just from the sight of Jonny with a thick cock up his ass.

It made Jonny needy in a way he normally wasn’t, to picture Patrick getting off to his own body. It made him thrust his hips back, needing more, but also wanting to give more. To Patrick.

When he finally came, it was with Patrick's name on his lips, making him feel wild and almost out of control. He felt like he’d been thoroughly wrecked in the best way possible, by Patrick, for Patrick. The feeling consumed him, settling deep in his chest.

He had realized then, with a fake cock up his ass and a tight fist around his dick, come cooling on his own stomach, that he wanted it for real. He wanted Patrick for real. 

****

Patrick messages him the next day about the video Jonny had sent the night before.

_ lilpeekaboo: you have no idea how hard i came to that last video _

_ tazer19: Oh yeah? Tell me more, Pat _

_ lilpeekaboo: god the way that you just totally lose yourself to the rhythm of your own hand, as if it’s a real cock fucking you open like that, getting you just right _

_ tazer19: That’s exactly what I do. It feels so good to let yourself go and enjoy the pleasure.  _

_ lilpeekaboo: and when you first pushed it in to the hilt and threw your head back and moaned, it was one of the hottest things ive ever seen _

_ lilpeekaboo: the way you get so red and flushed is so hot jonny _

_ tazer19: You like em loud? _

_ lilpeekaboo: not normally  _

_ lilpeekaboo: you’ve taken everything i thought i knew and thrown it out the window  _

_ tazer19: Next time I’ll use the one that has a suction cup, so that I can put it on the ground and ride it for you. It feels so good to have a cock fully seated inside of me. _

_ lilpeekboo: holy fuc k _

_ lilpeekaboo: im just thinking about those thighs working as u bounce on the dick, your hands reaching back to pull your cheeks apart so that i can see how wide your holes being stretched _

_ lilpeekaboo: it would be obscene jonny _

_ tazer19: I can do that for you, Pat.  _

(“I want to do that for you, Pat,” is what he wants to say.)

_ tazer19: I’ll let you watch as I stretch myself open, and then I could pull off and show you how nicely my hole gapes. I’ll use my hands to hold myself open, get a couple of my fingers wet with spit before I get them in there, make my hole sloppy wet for you.  _

_ tazer19: Then when I slide back down on the cock, and my hole will open up so easily for it that I’ll be able to bottom out on the first stroke.  _

_ tazer19: My favourite thing to do is bounce on it, hard and fast, so that the constant rhythm pushes the head against my prostate on every down stroke. It makes me come so hard that I forget to breathe. _

_ tazer19: I’d love to show you. Would you like that? _

Patrick's reply isn't instant, not like his previous messages have been, and the answer as to  _ why  _ is obvious when—

_ lil peekaboo: i just came so hard i saw stars _

Jonny can’t help but grin. 

_ tazer19: That’s what happens to me when I get fucked really good. My prostate is really sensitive. If I have a cock deep inside of me, I can usually come without touching myself at all. _

_ lilpeekaboo: thats the hottest thing ive ever heard _

_ lilpeekaboo: u probably take it so well, losing yourself in the moment and shit _

_ Tazer19: Wait until you see the video ;)  _

_ **** _

One day Jonny’s sitting on the couch in front of the TV, messaging Patrick. They’d been talking about the Cubs game, how the pitching had been an absolute shit show, but it had somehow turned into a conversation about “pitching and catching”, in an entirely different context.

_ tazer19: I like pitching, I like catching. It’s more dependent on the other person than anything. _

_ tazer19: Sometimes I just feel like totally owning someone, and other times I want to be fucked so hard that I feel it for days after. _

_ lilpeekaboo: wow that’s quite the mental picture... _

_ lilpeekaboo: im the same way i think, but i havent had much chance to experiment between the two yet _

_ tazer19: Really? You’ve never seen a guy at a bar and immediately thought “I want to ride him into the sunset”? Or seen a guy at the mall and been able to think about nothing except how pretty he would look choking on your dick? Or better yet, how pretty he’d look underneath of you, taking your dick?  _

_ lilpeekaboo: do u count? _

Jonny feels himself flush. How does Patrick always get to him so easily? 

“Who’re you talking to?” Brandon asks as he walks into the room. Jonny’s long pause must give him away, because Brandon just shakes his head with a chuckle. “Seriously dude, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you and Patrick were virtually dating.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Really? I haven’t heard you mention another person’s name in weeks, and I know for a fact that you haven’t been taking any more photos lately. Sounds like you’ve become a bit of a monogamist to me,” Brandon replies with a shrug. 

So, maybe he has a point. Maybe Jonny has stopped taking photos, and hardly ever posts new content anymore. But between picking up extra shifts at the store, and fucking himself so he can send Patrick the videos, he hasn’t really had time to create anything new for other people.

But perhaps, as much as he hates to admit it, Brandon’s right. It’s not just that he doesn’t have the time, it’s that he doesn’t  _ want _ to have the time.

Jonny sighs, turning to Brandon. “Look, it’s not like that. Patrick’s just—”

“Please, spare me the details of your relationship with your internet boyfriend. All I’m saying is, have you ever considered meeting up with him in person? Or were you planning on fucking your hand forever?” Brandon asks.

It’s a fair point. He and Patrick have been talking for weeks, and they’ve already covered family (Patrick has his mom, dad, and three sisters), favourite foods (steak), favourite TV shows (ESPN, which Jonny chirped him for mercilessly), and favourite hockey teams (the Sabres, and the Blackhawks ever since he moved to Chicago). 

The only thing Jonny still doesn’t know is Patrick’s job, which is something that Patrick doesn’t seem too keen to share details about, so Jonny simply never pressed the subject. It’s not like he’s any position to judge someone for their occupation at this point in his life. 

“You don’t think it’d be weird to meet up with him in person?” Jonny asks. “You know, since he’s, a, well—”

“A fan?” Brandon prompts with a shiteating grin spreading across his face. 

Jonny frowns. “Well, yeah, but it’s not like that. Patrick’s more than just a fan.”

“Yes, I am fully aware that Patrick is rainbows and sunshine and everything that is good in the world, Jonathan. You’ve been hung up on this guy for weeks, now buck up and ask him out, or else I will,” Brandon says, crossing his arms over his chest with a sense of finality that lets Jonny know that they’re done talking about the subject. 

He thinks about what Brandon’s saying. Patrick really is great, charming in a sort of boyish way, and he’s funny, too—Jonny catches himself laughing at his phone more often than not whenever they talk. 

The thing that stands out the most about Patrick, though, is the way that he makes Jonny feel; it’s like a giddiness equivalent to that of a child on Christmas day. Jonny feels genuinely excited when he gets to talk to Patrick, he  _ loves  _ it. Sometimes they won’t talk for a day or so, and Jonny usually spends that time jerking off to thoughts of Patrick. Which is, coincidentally, what he does when he’s talking  _ to  _ Patrick as well.

Obviously he still doesn’t know what the guy looks like, so Jonny just has to use his imagination. The only thing Jonny knows for sure is that Patrick has curly blond hair. He told Jonny that in passing once.

_ tazer19: I can’t imagine growing up in a house with three sisters, they must have driven you nuts. _

_ lilpeekaboo: oh man u dont even know the half of it _

_ lilpeekaboo: there was this one time my sisters did my makeup and made me wear one of my mom’s dresses for thanksgiving dinner _

_ lilpeekaboo: they said that the dress “complimented my pretty blond curls perfectly” whatever that means _

_ tazer19: It means that they thought you’d look pretty, and I’m sure they were right. _

_ lilpeekaboo: that’s a pretty bold comment for a guy that doesn’t even know what i look like _

_ tazer19: Don’t have to, I know I’m right _

_ lilpeekaboo: oh so you’re a cocky guy too ??? _

_ tazer19: Oh yeah baby ;) _

Other than that, Jonny pretty much pictures faceless guys that are a combination of athletes, actors, and pornstars that he finds attractive. He likes to think he’s got a pretty good imagination, because some of the guys he makes up in his head are totally hot as fuck.

Point is, he’s done perfectly fine picturing fictional scenarios and made-up guys, but ever since that first day, he’s become greedier and greedier for more of Patrick, for  _ all _ of Patrick. 

After mulling it over, and taking into consideration Brandon’s points, Jonny decides to ask Patrick out. What’s the worst that can happen?

**** 

Apparently, the worst that can happen is that Patrick can go complete radio silent on him. 

Jonny messaged him two days ago, and the message looms in their chat as a reminder of his regret. He’d thought Patrick would be cool about it, it’s not like Jonny asked him to come over and hook up or anything, all he’d said was,  _ “Think we could meet up in person sometime for a drink? I’d love to put a face to the name, it’ll make it easier to picture you as I jerk off ;)” _ . It was a little more forward than he would normally be, but Jonny didn’t think it was bad enough to warrant being ghosted. 

And yet that’s exactly what happened.

He tries to be logical about it. Maybe Patrick’s just really shy? Or maybe he’s embarrassed of the way he looks, doesn’t think he’s in Jonny’s league, is afraid that Jonny won’t find him attractive. But at this point, Jonny doesn’t give a fuck. He just wants one drink, just a chance to see the guy, to bring the experience full circle. 

He ends up obsessively checking their conversation, even though he knows he’d get a notification if Patrick replied. But, he just needs to be super sure that there’s no new messages that he’s missing. That’s all. 

Then, finally, later that night when he’s getting ready for bed, he halfheartedly opens up their chat and is surprised to see that Patrick’s finally typing. Seeing those little bubbles sends a thrill through Jonny, a little glimmer of hope that he maybe didn’t fuck this up as much as he’d thought. 

Patrick’s reply ends up being, well, less than enthusiastic.

_ lilpeekaboo: srry was crazy busy with work _

_ lilpeekaboo: we could… but it could be a risk, if u knew who i was. if we met irl _

(Maybe he has to take a moment to google what “irl” means, just to be sure he fully understands Patrick’s message. Sue him.)

_ tazer19: What do you mean? _

_ lilpeekaboo: a lot of people only want to know me for who im made out to be, instead of who i really am. anonymous sites are good for getting know ppl better without distractions _

_ lilpeekaboo: just dont want u to feel like ive been lying to u  _

_ tazer19: Whoever you are, whatever you’re known for, it doesn’t matter to me. I just want to see you, Pat. I can be discreet, I promise. Just you and me. _

And then Jonny spends the longest four minutes of his life watching the bubbles in Patrick’s message window, anxiously waiting for a reply. The more time that goes on, the more nervous Jonny gets. What the hell is Patrick hiding that he’s so worried about meeting up in person? 

Finally, Pat’s reply comes through, and Jonny breathes a sigh of relief as he smiles at his phone screen.

_ lilpeekaboo: fuck it. i shouldnt trust u this much but i do. when and where? _

****

They agree to meet two days later, on Friday afternoon at this coffee shop Patrick apparently loves. Jonny’s never been, it’s a little expensive and a little out of the way for his liking, but he agrees nonetheless.

They decide to meet at 2:30, so naturally Jonny shows up at 2:15. He’s typically late to most commitments, but there was no way his nerves were going to let him stay cooped up at home any longer. 

He orders a green tea when he gets to the shop, hoping it’ll calm his nerves a little and help him mellow out. He picks a table in the back corner by the window, sitting back to observe the shop a little while he waits for Patrick.

The place is cute, quaint. It’s got soft golden lights over head and fairylights along one wall, giving everything in the cafe a golden tinge, which makes him feel like he’s basking in the sun. It’s obvious that the majority of the clientele here are regulars, because as Jonny watches, almost every person that comes in asks for their regular and leaves with a big smile on their face. It’s nice.

Jonny sits at the table, sipping his tea and watching the girl behind the counter work. She seems so content with her job, pleasant and happy towards customers, serious and methodical as she helps fill the orders with the other barista. It’s refreshing to see. 

He checks his watch, and notices that it’s been a half an hour since he arrived, and 15 minutes since their scheduled meet up time— and yet, there’s no Patrick in sight. 

(Or at least, Jonny assumes there’s no Patrick, since the only people sitting in the cafe other than him and the baristas are a middle-aged woman and a young couple that look ready to jump each other at any moment.)

Jonny starts to worry. What if he’s just running late? But then again, what if something’s wrong? What if Patrick doesn’t show at all? Maybe he was more nervous than he was initially letting on?

He decides that he’ll give Patrick five more minutes before he takes off. In the meantime, he downs the rest of his green tea before pulling his phone out of his pocket. 

He replies to his family group chat, where his brother had shared photos of the new puppy his family adopted. A golden retriever, that their youngest daughter had apparently wanted to name Woof, which Jonny’s parents found incredibly endearing. 

He slips his phone back into his pocket and looks up to see a man walking towards him, with a sheepish look on his face and his hat pulled low over his eyes.

Wait. 

That’s not just any man, that’s Patrick fucking Kane.

Holy shit, Patrick Kane is  _ his _ Patrick.

Jonny tries not to let the surprise show on his face, he really does, but he knows he’s failed by the way Patrick gets this confident little smirk on his face as he approaches the table with a, “Hey, Jon.”

And that just won’t do, Jonny cannot let Patrick win here. He said he could be discreet, that he could handle this, and he can, he  _ will.  _

“Well, well, well, to what do I owe the pleasure of being the presence of three time Stanley Cup champion, Patrick Kane?” Jonny teases, really laying it on thick as he sits back in his seat. And maybe he means it, in a way, a little dig at how Patrick never admitted to who he was. Maybe there’s an inkling of hurt behind his words, at the fact that Patrick couldn’t fully trust him.

“Please… Please don’t do this, Jonny,” Patrick replies, an uneasy expression on his face. 

Jonny leans forward and folds his hands on the table as he says, “Look Pat, I don’t care. Like, I do, in a way, I’m sort of freaking out a little, what with you being a Chicago hero and all, but really. I don’t.”

Patrick grins, his shoulders dropping as he lets out a small sigh of relief, taking the seat across from Jonny. “That’s good, Jonny, really good.”

“Guess all I had to do to put a face to the name was look at my television, eh?” Jonny says with a breathless laugh. 

“Oh, so you’re a fan?” Patrick replies, mocking Jonny’s teasing tone from before. “And here I am, a little overwhelmed with meeting  _ you _ .” 

Jonny snorts. “I haven’t won a Stanley Cup.”

“Pretty sure you’ve got the Stanley Cup of asses,” Patrick quips.

Jonny rolls his eyes, all faux exasperation as he shakes his head and smiles.

****

Jonny ends up ordering another tea and a strawberry smoothie for Patrick, which he didn’t actually see on the menu, but Patrick assures him that they’ll make it. Jonny suspects it has something to do with him being Patrick Kane, but he digresses. 

“Sorry I was late,” Patrick starts when Jonny returns with their drinks. “I was, well—” 

“Busy at work?” Jonny asks with a smirk.

“Yeah, actually, practice ran late,” Patrick says, a hint of wonder in his voice when he remembers that Jonny knows who he is now, knows what he does, and that he can actually talk about it.

“Don’t worry about it, man, I’m glad you’re here now.” Patrick cheeks blush when he realizes what Jonny said. He means it though, he’s really glad Patrick showed up.

“So, uh, how was your day?” Patrick asks, taking a sip of his smoothie. 

“Nothing too exciting. I had a half shift at the store this morning, so I just went home and got ready after that, and then I came to this cafe that’s on the other side of the city from my apartment just so I could meet a famous hockey player for a drink. Pretty run of the mill Friday, no big deal,” Jonny shrugs nonchalantly, and Patrick throws his straw wrapper at him with a laugh. 

“Oh, so you’ve hung out with some of the other Blackhawks? Was it Sharpy? What a shame, he always gets the pretty ones,” Patrick tsks. 

Jonny smiles. It’s so easy being in Patrick’s presence, he’s relieved that there’s no awkwardness or hesitancy between them. 

“Tell me about practice,” Jonny says, and Patrick starts off on a story about a prank Sharpy pulled on him.

****

They talk for hours, drinks and the sandwiches that they ordered long gone. Jonny learns that he loves how expressive Patrick is, his eyes lighting up when he talks about something that excites him. The eye contact is new, something that was definitely missing when they talked online, but he finds that he loves having all of Patrick’s attention focused on him.

The barista comes over to tell them that they’ll be closing the shop in a half an hour. Patrick awkwardly looks at Jonny, hesitant as he asks, “So, you wanna get out of here?”

And that’s not right, Patrick should never look unsure like that. 

“We don’t have to,” Jonny says, and Patrick tilts his head with a questioning look. 

“No, I mean, I know it must be hard for you, being a celebrity and all,” Jonny explains.”It’s just, I know that I won’t be able to hit it and quit it with you, Pat.”

“I don’t want you to hit and quit it, Jon.”

Jonny hooks his ankle around Patrick’s under the table. “Why don’t we have a real date, eh? We’ll go for dinner, somewhere nice, a good steakhouse. We can share a bottle of wine, see where the night leads us.” Patrick nods and smiles, and Jonny knows he read the situation right.

“I do know all the best steakhouses,” Patrick replies with a smirk. 

“Perfect, I’ll let you book the reservation.”

Patrick reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Give me your number and we can pick a time and place that works for both of us.” 

“Wow, look at us progressing past online chatting,” Jonny chimes.

“Who would’ve thought? Not me, that’s for sure.” Patrick laughs, his dimples popping, and Jonny feels butterflies stirring in his stomach. 

They exchange numbers before Jonny pockets his phone and stands, sliding his jacket on. Patrick looks up at him with a content smile on his face. Jonny leans forward then, mouth even with Patrick’s ear as he hears Patrick’s breath catch in his throat. 

“Maybe after our date we can go back to your place and you can show me how well you can handle a stick,” Jonny whispers.

Patrick sputters, practically choking on his own tongue as Jonny pulls back and claps him on the shoulder. “Later, Pat,” he says, walking away from the table with a smirk on his face. 

****

The date was, well, perfect. 

Patrick ended up picking a steakhouse near the river, one that Jonny had been meaning to try for years. The steaks were cooked perfectly, and the asparagus was to die for. Jonny had ordered them a bottle of red to share that ended up turning Patrick’s mouth a deep pink— Jonny couldn’t seem to look away. 

And, on top of that, Patrick apparently has a bit of an oral fixation. Throughout the entire meal he was biting his lips, sucking the bottom one into his mouth and playing at it with his fingers. He seemed to do it subconsciously, unaware that he was driving Jonny absolutely insane. 

Jonny tried to focus on his delicious food, on the savoury wine, on the sound of Pat’s voice as he spoke— but nothing distracted from the raging arousal burning low in his core. He wanted nothing more than to jump across the table and capture Patrick’s lips with his own, and yet, at the same time, he loved that they were finally able to look each other in the eye as they talked. Patrick’s eyes were beautiful, an endless blue, deeper than the ocean, and Jonny wanted to drown in them. 

Once they had finished their food, Patrick had leaned forward and said, simple as anything, “I want you to come back to my place and kiss me until I forget my own name.”

And Jonny had  _ definitely  _ been on board with that plan.

So that’s how they ended up here, in Patrick’s gorgeous apartment-- Jonny kissing Patrick, pressing him back into the sheets of his own bed.

He opens up so beautifully, mouth pliant as Jonny sips from his lips, tasting the sweetness of the wine mixed with a sweetness that’s all Patrick. Jonny gets a hand around the side of Pat’s neck, his fingers tugging a little at some loose curls, and it elicits a moan from Patrick’s chest. 

“Look at you,” Jonny says as he pulls pack, fingers still twisting and tugging on the curls. “Can’t believe we’re finally here. Can’t believe I can touch you all I want.” He runs his free hand down Patrick’s side, stopping at the obvious bulge in Patrick’s pants, pushing the heel of his hand against it.

Patrick blushes, trying to turn his face into the pillow, but Jonny doesn’t let him. “Pat, hey, it’s alright, you don’t have to be shy, it’s just me.”

“I know, I know, it’s just a lot,” Patrick says, voice hushed, like he maybe hopes Jonny won’t hear him. 

“I want to do this for you, make you feel good. Let me,” Jonny whispers, bringing his mouth down to hover over Patrick’s. “Let me.”

Patrick brings his hands up, framing Jonny’s face as he says, “Your show, Jon. But you better not disappoint.” 

He laughs as Patrick brings their mouths back together.

****

Getting Pat loosened up would almost be sweet, if it weren’t for the way that he rhythmically clenches down on every finger Jonny adds, like his hole is greedy for more. After the second finger, Jonny spends some time scissoring his fingers, trying to loosen Patrick’s rim to make space for himself. He glances up at one point to find Pat biting his own lip so hard it’s white, fingers clenching in the sheets.

“Pat, talk to me, are you alright?” Jonny asks.

Patrick lets his bottom lip slip from between his teeth as he nods slightly. “Yeah, fuck, it’s good, I just need-” Patrick cuts himself off with a frustrated sounding huff as pushes his hips into Jonny’s hand. 

Jonny pulls his fingers out, adding a little more lube before he slips in a third, curling them in to find Patrick’s prostate. He watches Patricks’s face, and he knows he’s found that sweet spot when Pat’s eyes shoot open, his hips jumping up as he tries to simultaneously curl into and away from the pressure. 

“Holy  _ fuck _ .”

“Seems like you’re just as sensitive as I am,” Jonny chuckles, curling his fingers in again. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Patrick begs. “I need more. I need, I,  _ Jonny _ ,” he whines.

Jonny pulls his fingers out, wiping them on Patrick’s thigh as he shushes him. “I got you,” he soothes. He reaches over to the nightstand, intending to grab a condom, but Patrick puts a hand in the centre of his chest, stopping him. Jonny raises an eyebrow, and Patrick just shrugs.

“You don’t have to,” Patrick offers with a shrug. Jonny raises a questioning eyebrow. “I just mean, I’m clean. I get tested pretty routinely, so if you’re clean…”

“God, you really shouldn’t… shouldn’t fucking trust me this much,” Jonny says as he leans down and presses a kiss to Patrick’s collarbone. 

Patrick tangles his fingers in the short hairs at the back of Jonny’s neck. “Yeah, well, I do. Deal with it,” he says. Jonny doesn’t see his smile, but he can feel it.

“Fuck, what am I going to do with you?” Jonny asks incredulously. 

Patrick gives him a filthy grin. “Make me feel good, like you promised.” 

Jonny swats his thigh in response, reaching over with his other hand to retrieve the lube from the sheets near Patrick’s hip. He’s been hard for what feels like fucking  _ hours _ , so it’s time to get this show on the road. 

Patrick snatches the lube, uncapping it and letting it drip down Jonny’s cock. He brings his fist from the head down to the base, where his fingers just reach around the girth. “Fuck, Jonny, I knew you were hung, but I didn’t know you were this big,” Patrick says as he works the lube around Jonny’s head.

“This is the money maker, right here,” Jonny retorts, cockiness thick in his voice. 

Patrick lays back against the pillows, lifting his hips up off the bed. “Let’s see what you’ve got,  _ Tazer _ .” The tone is all teasing, and it brings Jonny back to when Patrick first messaged him to tell him how pretty his dick was. Seems as though they’ve come full circle now, in a weird sort of way. 

The thought makes Jonny laugh, and Patrick pokes him in the rib with his foot. “What’s so funny?” Patrick asks.

“Nothing,” Jonny replies with a shake of his head as he knee walks up the bed. “Just thinkin’ about how crazy it is that that fucking site brought us here.”

Patrick smiles, lines of his face going soft. “You’re such a sap,” he says.

“You like it,” Jonny points out. He gets one of Patrick’s legs over his shoulder, the other bent at the knee and pressed back against Patrick’s chest to give himself better access. 

Jonny curls the fingers of one hand around Pat’s knee, the other lining himself up with Patrick’s hole, fitting the head against his rim. Patrick breathes out, and Jonny pushes his hips forward at the same time, slipping past the tight ring of muscle. 

Patrick’s stomach muscles clench, like his body’s fighting with itself to make space for Jonny’s thick cock inside. “It’s alright, take your time,” Jonny whispers, turning his head to press a kiss to the inside of Patrick’s calf. Pat takes a few deep breaths, slow and even, and Jonny feels his hole loosen up, letting him slide in further. 

“Fuck, I can’t...” Patrick stutters, followed by, “I need it, more, c’mon, ’m good.”

Jonny takes that as the gift that it is, getting his knees under him and sliding the rest of the way home in one thrust. He grinds his hips in a little, letting Pat adjust to the feeling (and trying to let himself adjust to just how tight Patrick is) before pulling out until just the flared head is caught on Patrick’s rim.

“Jonny, fuck, please, can you just- _ oh, fuck you _ ,” Patrick chokes out as Jonny snatches his hips forward. 

“What was that, Pat?” Jonny teases. 

He sets a rhythm, letting his hips snap forward and grazing Patrick’s prostate on every stroke. His thrusts are deep, relentless, as he chases his own pleasure, wanting to get Patrick there, too. Jonny watches as Patrick’s back arches off the bed, his head pushed back against the pillows. 

“Yeah, just like that, so good, Pat, you’re so tight.” 

“ _ Jonny, _ ” Patrick moans, bringing his hand up to hold his cock in a loose fist. He doesn’t jerk it, just lets Jonny’s thrusts push it through his grip. 

Jonny leans forward then, bending Patrick practically in half to capture his lips in a kiss. It changes the angle, and they moan into each other’s mouths as Jonny slips impossibly deeper, grinding his hips, in, in,  _ in,  _ getting Patrick’s prostate really good-- that hard, constant pressure that turns your insides to putty. 

“It’s so  _ good, _ ” Patrick says as he sucks Jonny’s bottom lip into his mouth. Yeah, definite oral fixation.

Jonny pulls halfway out, starting up the hard thrusts again, and Patrick bites down on Jonny’s lip. In retaliation, Jonny twists Pat’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Oh shit, yeah, I’m gonna-  _ Jonny,” _ Patrick whines, high in his throat. He clenches down once, twice, and then comes across his own stomach and chest. 

“Fuck, that’s so hot, almost there,” Jonny grunts, snapping his hips faster now, hands on either of Patrick’s hips as he chases his release. 

“Do it, Jonny, come all over me,” Patrick says with a grin. Jonny’s head snaps up, and he sees Patrick bring a hand to the come on his stomach, smearing it into his skin. 

Jonny pulls out, hiking a knee up over Pat’s hip as he pulls himself off three more times before adding to the mess on Patrick's body.

“Holy shit,” Jonny says, breathless. He watches as Patrick brings a come covered finger to his mouth, sucking on it. Jonny smiles, flopping down on the mattress next to him. He turns on his side, facing Patrick and pressing a kiss to his bicep.

“That was hot,” Patrick says as Jonny passes him a tissue from the nightstand, wiping off his own stomach. He gently reaches down to wipe between his cheeks, wincing a little. 

“Might be a little sore,” Jonny states, trying to keep the smugness out of his voice. 

Patrick turns onto his side to face Jonny, shoulder shrugging against the mattress when he says, “Worth it.” 

They both laugh, but it's quiet enough that it doesn’t leave the shared space between them. Jonny looks at Patrick, really looks at him, and realizes how content he is-- right here, right now, this is exactly where he wants to be. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Patrick asks, repeating his earlier question. 

Jonny doesn’t hesitate when he says, “You. I might have to keep you around.” 

Patrick smiles, cheeks dimpling. “Well, lucky for you that I want to stick around. Next time, I’m gonna tap that,” he says as he lightly smacks Jonny’s ass.

_ Yeah, there’ll be plenty of time for that, _ Jonny thinks. 

He smiles and grabs the sheet, pulling it up over their naked bodies. He leans forward, capturing Patrick’s lips in a kiss. It’s light, sweet in a way that the others weren’t. He thinks he could get used to this: kissing Patrick, touching Patrick, sharing a bed with Patrick. 

“Yeah,” he says softly, right to the corner of Patrick’s mouth. “Might have to charge you for it though.” 

Patrick laughs again, bright and loud and Jonny kisses the sound right out of him.

Yeah. He could get used to being Patrick’s.


End file.
